Jason let out a dry, humorless laugh.

“He’s been in a vegetative state for nine months.”

“The doctors say it is highly unlikely he will ever regain consciousness.”

“Why waste your youth sitting in a dark room with a ghost?”

“Because he is my husband,” I said, looking Jason directly in the eyes.

I watched Dr. Phillips prepare a syringe, drawing a clear liquid from a small glass vial.

“Is that his usual sedative?” I asked, trying to sound casual.

“It is his standard nutritional and neurological support, Mrs. Thornton,” Dr. Phillips replied smoothly.

He injected the fluid into Ethan’s IV line.

I watched Ethan’s face, looking for any sign of distress.

His eyelids remained perfectly still, but I noticed a slight, almost invisible twitch in his jaw.

He was fighting to hide the pain.

Jason stepped closer to the bed, staring down at his cousin.

“He looks thinner today,” Jason remarked, reaching out to touch Ethan’s shoulder.

“Are you sure the dosage is correct, Doctor?”

“Perfectly correct, Mr. Thornton,” the doctor said, packing his bag.

Jason leaned over Ethan, his face inches from his cousin’s.